


Snippets of SNAP

by blurrito (thunderin_brainstorm)



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Magical Girls, Ficlet Collection, Gen, Secret Identity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:53:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28292676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderin_brainstorm/pseuds/blurrito
Summary: Quick fics, spinoffs, and miscellaneous pieces of the magical girls AU TF:SNAP.Chap 1- Skyfire is asked about his student StarscreamChap 2- Dead End's roommates aren't as secret as they thought
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6
Collections: TF:SNAP





	1. A Discussion of Starscream

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on tumblr @thenamesblurrito, along with character designs and other content. These were written in response to asks, so they aren't quite *canon*, but consider them neat little behind the scenes snippets ;)

“Starscream?” Skyfire sighed heavily, sinking down into his desk chair. “Now _there_ is a youngling I do not know what to do with. Where do I begin?

“He’s sharp. Certainly smarter than other people give him credit for. If he applied himself, I think he’d be in the top percentage of the whole Academy. The problem is, he bends his intelligence towards securing a reputation, instead of letting his abilities shine as they are. I don’t know why—maybe he had to compete for attention in his aerie, maybe he got no support from his peers when he was younger. But with the way he carries on now, everyone assumes from his boasting that he must be compensating for stupidity.”

He shuffled in the desk drawers for a moment, pulling out a couple datapads and bringing up a layout of charts and diagrams, marked with Starscream’s name at the top. “He’s taken to xenobiology like an insecticon to sweet gels. Thundercracker and Skywarp haven’t grasped the concepts like Starscream, but somehow he’s the one who feels the need to remind everyone in the vicinity that organics are disgusting, lesser-than creatures that shouldn’t be considered lifeforms. It’s like he’s parroting the common propaganda to prevent others from accusing him of being interested in a subject that seekers don’t often study.” Skyfire looked down with a blank expression. “He doesn’t want to be bullied for falling outside of his frame’s stereotype. I understand that.”

He put away the datapads and stood to pace the length of his office. Late evening sunlight blazed through the bay windows, sending prisms reflecting off the many specimens and replicas of organic life scattered across his space. “The worst of it is, he’s perfectly willing to become a bully himself! One moment he’s shrugging off cruel remarks from someone taunting his voice cracking, and the next he’s mocking another for their low grades, or their clumsiness, or some other inane thing that he thinks he can compare himself to and come out better looking. He—”

Skyfire stopped and sighed once more. He shuffled to the windows to watch the sunset light up the cityscape, plating bathed in crimson. “He has so much _potential_ ,” he murmured. “There’s no reason for him to squander it, trying to force everyone to recognize him. There _are_ people who see and appreciate him for who he is. Why, if it weren’t for Windblade still stubbornly talking to him, I wouldn’t have noticed half of what Starscream does. She seems so determined to prove him a good person… and he often proves her right in spite of himself.”

“One day,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching up in a wry smile. “Mirage was particularly antagonistic, and no matter what I did he would not stop pestering the students in his row. Starscream paid him no mind, but as soon as he turned his comments on Windblade, he got right up to Mirage and _hovered_ there, perfectly poised, and with a lot more menace than a youngling should be capable of! I’d never seen a mech of his age fly in root mode with such control and precision, and no one else in the class had either, because they all stopped to stare. I don’t even remember what it was that Starscream said, but it was scathing enough to keep Mirage quiet for an orn. Windblade looked shocked. Starscream did too, to be honest. I don’t think he thought about what he did until it was already over.

“His base instinct is to intervene when wrong is being done… but his learned behavior is to protect himself from perceived danger.” Skyfire’s smile fell, and he looked very somber for a moment. “I don’t understand how he finds the bravery to transform and rise up as… anyway.”

He strode back over to his desk and flipped through a stack of files, as if leaving his train of thought behind. “Starscream is a favorite student of mine, true. But I don’t go easy on him. I simply understand that he struggles with more demand on his time and energy than I know about, and I give him the space he needs. I’ve told him I am always here to help should he need it, but it’s his choice to take me up on the offer. There isn’t much more to say.” He looked up, something hard in his optics, and gestured to the door. “Anything else would have to come from Starscream himself, although I don’t believe he will trust so easily. And I will certainly _never_ break the trust he’s given me.”


	2. Doomsday Preppers

They’re whispering again.

They do that a lot, Dead End has found. It’s like they think it isn’t suspicious. Cosmos doesn’t seem to notice, bless her spark, but she _is_ very polite. Maybe she’s just giving them privacy.

Dead End does something similar herself. She simply never reacts. Why would she? It doesn’t matter anyway

Orion is gesturing something in the middle of their little huddle, Windblade and Minimus nodding along. He lists off a few points on his fingers and grimaces. Minimus scowls. Windblade’s antennae flick down.

Good. They should be unhappy. The world is ending.

Their not-so-clandestine meeting breaks up as Orion goes to his berth to look for something and Minimus darts out of the room. Windblade shuffles her wings and chews on her lip. The weight of a city is on her shoulders for a moment.

The textbook in front of Dead End has gone dark from inactivity, and now the vaguely interesting conversation has ended. Visor blank, she stares into the middle distance. If she doesn’t move from this spot on her chair, how long will it take her to rust into nothingness?

Pedesteps rudely interrupt her experiment.

“Good afternoon, Dead End!” Windblade smiles at her.

“Not really,” she grunts.

“What’s the matter this time?”

“Hasn’t changed from last time. We’re living through the apocalypse. And there’s _homework_ on top of that.”

She lays a gentle hand on her shoulder with a sympathetic look. “Oh, come on. It isn’t all that bad. There’s been plenty of disasters throughout history and yet we’re still here! It’ll all work out.”

“What,” Dead End mutters, “you think someone like the heroes will prevent the inevitable entropic decay of the universe?”

“Well…” Windblade pauses, clearly thinking hard. She must have some compulsive comforting disorder. “I don’t think the entropic decay of the universe is a concern if it’s truly inevitable. But the littler things are, like monster attacks, and relic victims, and natural disasters. It’s those times that people can be saved. And yes, I do think the heroes can do something to stop the apocalypse, even if it’s just for one person. They’d certainly save you, if you were ever in trouble.”

Her face shines with kindness and sincerity, a brilliant being of hope bringing light to a dark world. Dead End squints.

“You’re very nice for someone who beats up Hellscream in your free time.”

All of Windblade’s paneling contracts in a full-body jolt of shock. Looks painful.

“Wh-what, um. What makes you say that?” she croaks, optics wide and whited out.

Dead End flickers her visor slowly. “Isn’t it obvious?”

Orion comes up behind Windblade with a few datatrax in his hands. “Ready to go?” He looks between the two of them curiously. “Um. Is everything okay?”

He’s just as caring and saccharine as Windblade. _Ugh._

“No matter how powerful the heroes are, you’re still not gonna escape doomsday, y’know,” she deadpans.

His finials tilt all the way back. “Uh.”

“Dead End.” Windblade hasn’t quite shaken off her surprise but her expression is set. “The world will end someday, you’re right. But that doesn’t mean we won’t fight as hard as we can to keep everyone safe and happy right up to the end. _That’s_ the point. We can help people here and now, and so we will.”

Again with that shining halo of goodness. Is it a metaphor or is there actually light coming off her? She’s passionate and driven to be recklessly kind, a warmth and a steel in her gaze that weren’t there when school started. She really means what she says. Power soaks through her every word.

Dead End snorts. “That’s stupid.”

It seems a monumental effort to reach out from her slouch and switch on the textbook again. She eyes it halfheartedly.

Her two roommates have another short whisper-conversation and leave, Windblade patting her on the shoulder as they go. Off to do some heroic Autobot scrap, probably.

They’re the weirdest doomsday preppers Dead End has ever met.


End file.
